


Helping Out

by Solo2863



Category: Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Historical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4368254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solo2863/pseuds/Solo2863
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roger sees unusual activity in the harbour and offers to help out, resulting in an experience that he will never forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have rated this piece as "T" because of non-character death and general background nastiness. I hope I have labelled it correctly. If anyone thinks it should be rated "M" I will change it accordingly.

Roger leant on the railings surveying the unusual activity around the small harbour. Earlier a lorry had pulled up, a number of naval ratings jumped down from it and climbed aboard some of the boats. Their officer went straight to the harbour master's office and the two could be seen inside, deep in conversation.

Roger watched a pair of sailors on the boat nearest to him, _Sydia,_ a white painted motor cruiser. One had opened the after hatch and dropped down into the tiny engine room, while the other checked around the deck and the wheelhouse. The head of the first reappeared through the hatch. "Oi, Bungs! I can't this thing started!"

"Well you're the flippin' stoker, what do expect me to do?"

"Just thought you might want to know," grumbled the first.

"Hey!" shouted Roger, "Have you checked the battery switch?"

"The flippin' what?"

"The battery switch."

"Where's that."

"Here let me show you." And Roger quickly climbed down the ladder to the boat.

"'Ere you can't come on 'ere. This 'as bin requisitioned by the Navy." protested the stoker, but did nothing to stop Roger coming aboard.

"Mr Matthews, the owner, showed me round and let me start the engine too."

"Come on Stokes," said the other sailor, "If he can get this ship going it'll save getting the Chief over. If he has to start the engine he'll never let you forget it."

"OK, but I don't 'old wiv 'avin' civvies on board."

"Aw stow it Stokes! It's only to get the thing started, then he can go ashore again."

The stoker moved to one side to let Roger down the engine room hatch. Roger showed him a switch, hidden beneath the main instrument panel, "Just flick this over and she should start. Now try the starter"

The stoker tried the starter again and after a couple of coughs the engine burst into life. The stoker looked slightly abashed at there being such a simple solution to his problem. He gave Roger a wry grin and a thumbs up.

Roger shouted so he could be heard above the engine noise. "Best switch it off again when you finish. It stops the battery draining too quickly. Where are you all going anyway?"

"Ain't allowed to say. It's all a bit 'ush 'ush."

"But you're all going to France, aren't you?"

"May be we are, may be we ain't, but I ain't tellin'"

"Fine, fine," said Roger, "I get the message. The BBC says the Army are being evacuated from the beaches in France by the Navy, and I see the Navy requisitioning shallow draft boats. I know a connection when I see it. Anyway if you're going far you'll need fuel, I think the tank is nearly empty. Mr Matthews hasn't been able to get much since the war started"

"That's all bin taken care of. There'll be a lorry load of fuel along soon to fill all these. Now you oughta be moving on. Thanks for showin' me that switch."

"That's alright. I'm happy to help out."

Roger climbed back up through the hatch, closely followed by the stoker. Once on deck he looked around the harbour. A couple of other boats now had their engines running and blue clouds of exhaust smoke drifted in the still air.

"Well have a good voyage, where ever it is you're going." said Roger.

"Thanks mate." and to Roger's surprise the stoker stuck out his hand, which Roger shook. For the first time he looked closely at the seaman. He realised he was facing a young man, probably not much older than himself. "Now you'd best push off 'fore you gets me in trouble."

Roger gave a grin and stepped ashore, waving to the other seaman, who was busy in the wheelhouse.

Returning to his vantage point by the railings Roger continued to watch the activities before him. A second lorry, this one loaded with fuel drums, stopped close to the harbour office and two overalled sailors busied themselves with a portable pump. The officer, a Lieutenant, came out of the office and was joined by a Chief Petty Officer.

The chief stood on the quay and bellowed something. He was too far away for Roger to hear what he said, but the accompanying gestures were unmistakeable; he was ordering one of the boats to come over and start fuelling.

After the first two boats had fuelled Roger tired of just watching, so he wandered over to the harbour office. In the past he had spent several afternoons in there, listening to the harbour master's stories of his sea-going youth. The old man had learnt his trade in sailing ships carrying wool from Australia, moved to on to steam ships and had visited ports in every continent. Now at an age when most men would spend their time pottering in the garden he supervised the running of the small harbour.

The Harbour Master was just how he imagined Peter Duck would be, with a weather-beaten face, tufts of grey hair poking out from under his battered cap and clear blue eyes that always looking towards the horizon.

"Morning Mr Roger." He was greeted as he entered the little office. "I saw you watching the goings-on out there."

"Good morning Captain Jenks. Are they taking the boats to France? The sailors wouldn't tell me."

"Aye, they'll be off as soon as they've finished fuelling. Bringing back our poor soldiers from Flanders. That Lieutenant told me they need the smaller boats to pick men off the beaches and take them out to the bigger ships offshore."

"Why haven't they taken _Maisie_?", Roger looked out at the harbour launch as he asked the question.

"That's a very good question young man," replied the harbour master with a grin. "I told 'em a little white lie earlier. When the Navy came round asking about the boats and how fast and how reliable they were I said that old _Maisie_ there could only manage four knots."

"But she's faster than that!" protested Roger "Don't you want her to help bring the army back home?"

"Now I didn't say that. Did I? I just didn't want the Navy taking her. I fancies one last foreign trip before I'm too old, so I thought I'll take her across myself."

"What! You'll take _Maisie_ across to France by yourself?"

"And why not? I've been handling small boats for nigh on sixty years."

Roger could not think of a suitable reply to this. "When are you going then?" he asked.

"Once these navy guys have all gone I'll be off. When they're at sea they won't care about one more small boat out there."

"Could I come too?" Roger had asked the question before he had really thought about it.

"This isn't going to be a quick afternoon trip round the bay and back in time for tea. I'll be away for a good while, and if things are as bad as the Lieutenant says there's a fair chance of not coming back. No, you'd best stay here. It's not a job for kids. I'm sure you'll find a way of helping out if you want to."

Roger was about to retort that at seventeen he was no longer a kid when an idea came to him. "You're right Captain Jenks, there are lots of ways of helping out."

"That's the spirit. I'm sure you'll be called on to do your bit before long. Now I must get _Maisie_ ready for the trip, then I'll nip home to get some rations to see me through."

Roger said goodbye to the old harbour master and went back outside. Instead of going back to his favoured place at the railings he made his way up into the town. Threading his way through the quiet residential streets he came to a terraced house. He pulled a key from his pocket, let himself in and went up the stairs to the back bedroom. Working quickly he pulled a small knapsack out from under the bed and crammed a spare sweater inside. Briefly he considered taking a change of underwear but decided there might not be the opportunity to change.

Back downstairs he looked through the kitchen cupboards, there was not much suitable to take: a tin of condensed milk, a couple of day-old currant buns and a slightly wrinkled apple. He decided to leave the tin of milk but added the other items to the contents of the knapsack and was about to fasten the straps when he remembered drink. From under the sink he took a screw-topped bottle, and filled it with water. There was just room to slide it into the pack with the other items.

Patting his pockets, Roger confirmed he had a handkerchief, penknife and a pencil. He had just one more thing to do before leaving.

From a drawer he took a writing pad. For a while he chewed the end of the pencil while he thought about what to say. After due consideration he decided to keep the message short.

_Dear Aunt Rosie,_

_I have gone round to Dover with Captain Jenks, the harbour master, to help the soldiers coming back from France. I might be away a few days._

_Your loving nephew,_

_Roger_

There, he hoped his aunt would not be too inquisitive and try to contact him in Dover. She was a widow and had never had children of her own, so was unused to dealing with youngsters. Roger had often stayed with her for weekends, it being so near his school. Bridget had been evacuated to North Wales with the rest of her school and Mother had taken the opportunity to move down to Plymouth to be near father. It was impractical for him to make the long journey to join her so he had elected to spend the time again with his aunt at the coast.

He folded the letter and placed on the hall table, so his aunt would see it when she returned from her job serving in the baker's shop. Shouldering his knapsack Roger set off back towards the harbour.

o – o – O – o – o

On arrival back at the harbour a quick glance was all Roger needed to know that the requisitioned boats had already left. Looking out to sea he could see them heading towards the southern horizon and France.

He risked a brief look in the harbour office as he passed. Sat behind the main desk was Captain Jenks' assistant, with his head bent low over a book. Satisfied the man would not disturb him for a while Roger continued round to the quay where the harbour launch was berthed.

_Maisie_ was used for a variety of jobs around the harbour; acting as a tugboat, moving people and equipment, even servicing navigation marks. The boat would never win a competition for good looks. She was a tubby, sturdy craft, about fifty feet long with a wheelhouse and small cabin amidships. A pair of exhaust pipes for the diesel engines protruded from behind this structure. Behind them a small skylight gave light to the engine room. Her black hull was protected by a massive rope fender running right around the boat, but this had not prevented her collecting many dents and scrapes over the years.

Roger pausing at the top of the steps to see if he was being watched. But no, everyone in sight was going about their own business. Jenks had shown Roger round during a previous visit, and now he tried to remember the layout and where Jenks was unlikely to look for a while. There was only one place he could think of, it would not be comfortable for a long trip, but he did not intend staying there more than a couple of hours.

After another quick look around and Roger was down the stone steps and standing on _Maisie's_ deck. He tried the wheelhouse door, as hoped it was unlocked. Within a few seconds he was inside and had closed the door behind him. From the wheelhouse he went down the short flight of steps leading down to the cabin. This was a spartan space; with a long, slatted, wooden bench along each side, and a table bolted to the deck.

Roger manoeuvred himself between table and bench to a small door in the forward bulkhead. He opened it and checked inside. Yes, it was as he remembered, a storage locker containing tins of paint, some old rope and a bundle of cotton waste. It would be cramped but he could conceal himself in there when Jenks came aboard. Hopefully Jenks would not even come into the cabin, let alone look in the locker.

As best he could Roger rearranged the contents to so he could sit more comfortably. A pile of cotton waste over a couple of tins made an acceptable, if rather narrow stool. He was about to settle into the small space and pull the door closed when he remembered to ensure he would be able to open the door again from inside.

A piece of waste jammed in the door held it nearly closed, and allowed a narrow strip of light into the locker. Roger hoped that if Jenks did look down from the wheelhouse would not notice the door was not fully closed.

Roger then settled down in the semi-darkness to wait. It seemed an eternity before he heard footsteps on the deck above. Carefully he listened, there were two sets of footsteps and voices. Who had Jenks brought aboard?

The door to the wheelhouse opened and he heard Jenks say, "Just chuck your dunnage down there then stand by to slip. I'll start the donkeys."

Two soft thumps indicated bags being tossed down onto the deck of the saloon. This was followed the sound of movement on the deck above as Jenks and whoever was with him moved about. This continued for a few minutes then there was a sudden roar as first one, then the other engine started. Roger could not hear anything else above the noise but he felt _Maisie_ rock slightly. Then the engines' note changed and there was the sound of water flowing past the boat. They had left the jetty.

Time passed slowly as Roger sat in the near darkness of the locker. His perch on the paint tins was already getting uncomfortable and a twinge in his right leg told him he would soon be suffering from cramp. But, he reasoned to himself, if he came out hiding too early Jenks would turn back and put him ashore.

He held his wristwatch close to the chink of light coming through the door and tried to see the time. Not for the first time he wished his watch had a luminous dial like John's. Eventually he could make out the position of the hands. He had only been in the locker for a little over half an hour, much too short a time for them to be well clear of land. Delving into his knapsack Roger rummaged about for one of the current buns and the bottle of water, and settled down to a welcome but rather uncomfortable snack.

After eating the bun and washing it down with some of the water Roger decided that perhaps it was time to let himself out of the locker and reveal himself as a stowaway.


	2. Chapter 2

After pushing the door open Roger stood up in the cabin, rubbing his right leg to help restore the circulation after being cooped up in the locker. He took the opportunity to look out through the windows, never had he seen the sea look so calm. There was barely a ripple on the surface, just a gentle oily swell that lazily lifted _Maisie_ by a few inches at a time as the engines drove her further from England. Over to starboard he could see other boats heading in the same direction, and beyond them smoke from a larger ship.

Roger was just wondering how to announce his presence to Captain Jenks when that gentleman himself came down the steps from wheelhouse.

"What the …" Jenks managed to bite back a swearword. "Roger, what the hell are you doing here?"

"When you said you were taking _Maisie_ over to France I decided to come to. You might need someone a bit younger to help."

"So you thought you'd stow away on board eh? I must admit it's the sort of damn stupid, tomfool, hare-brained thing I would have done in my youth. I've a good mind to turn about and put you back ashore. As I said this morning this is not a job for youngsters. Come up top and look at what we are heading for."

Jenks turned about and led back up to the small wheelhouse. At the wheel was a sailor who looked even older than Jenks, with a bushy white beard and blue knitted cap. Jenks gestured to Roger, "Vic, I found us a stowaway. Seems to think he'd be some help on this trip."

Vic slowly looked Roger up and down. Then gave his opinion, "Looks a likely lad. Given time I reckon I could teach him to hand, reef and steer."

"I was thinking more of taking him back."

"Please don't do that," pleaded Roger. "I know lots about boats and can be useful aboard and I can steer and look after the engines."

"I don't know about that." said Jenks, "Take a look ahead and tell me if that doesn't look like trouble."

Roger turned and looked out of the wheelhouse windows towards where they were heading. In the distance, where he knew the French coast should be, a thick, black cloud spread across the horizon.

Jenks nodded towards the hidden coast, "That is where we're going. Somewhere under that stuff the army is being bombed and shelled and Jerry is doing his damnedest to stop us bringing them home."

That ominous cloud made Roger realise that this was not a bit of a lark to tell his school friends about later. It occurred to him for the first time that there was a definite possibility they might not even get back. For a moment he considered telling Jenks that he would rather he was taken back to England, but the thought of appearing a coward in front of these old sailors overrode that idea and he found himself saying, "I think we ought to do our best to help then."

Jenks still looked uncertain but his colleague said, "Well said lad. By the way, I'm Vic Stone. Many times I sailed with Cap'n Jenks as bosun, and I can tell you his bark's worse than his bite. Mostly."

"Pleased to meet you Mr Stone," replied Roger.

"No need to be so formal lad. Just call me Vic, or bosun."

o – o – O – o – o

 _Maisie_ motored on over the silky smooth sea towards that ominous cloud. Around them Roger could see more ships and boats as they got closer to France. Every type of craft imaginable seemed to be in the area. Private motor cruisers like those he had seen back in the harbour, paddle steamers, life boats, working boats, even a Thames barge; mixed in with these were larger ships, mainly naval destroyers and former cross-channel steamers acting as troopships.

The decks of the returning ships were all packed with khaki clad figures, members of the British Expeditionary Force. A ferry passed close by and Roger waved cheerfully. A lone sailor raised a hand in reply, but none of the soldiers sitting on the deck appeared to see.

The coast was now close enough for Roger to see a narrow strip of pale yellow beach between the land and sea. As he watched a number of dark shapes appeared in the sky beyond the beaches. These quickly grew bigger and resolved themselves into aircraft.

The aircraft divided into smaller groups and spread out over the area. Some dived down towards the beaches dropping bombs which raised gouts of earth and smoke. Others aimed for the mass of ships and boats. Despite causing great fountains of water, it looked as if nothing was seriously damaged until a destroyer, which had just left the harbour area, stopped with dense smoke pouring from her after superstructure.

As the three onboard _Maisie_ watched, the destroyer's stern settled lower in the water. After a few minutes she slowly rolled over to her portside and slipped beneath the surface. Only a slick of oil and dozens of heads bobbing about in the water marked where the ship had sunk.

"Hell!" exclaimed Jenks. "She didn't last long!"

"Shouldn't we go and help?" asked Roger.

"No, others are much closer than us. We'd only get in the way."

As they watched a paddle steamer, her decks already loaded with troops, approached the men in the water and threw scrambling nets over the side. She was followed by another destroyer sweeping in to aid her sister ship's crew.

"Take the wheel a minute, I want to take look at where we are going. I don't remember all these piers." Jenks moved aside to let Roger take the helm. "Leave that warship to starboard." He instructed. Jenks then trained his binoculars on the shore.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, "Those aren't piers, they're men!"

"What do you mean?" asked Roger.

"What look like piers leading in the water are really lines of men waiting to be picked up! What a sight!"

Vic, who had been busy looking for something in the deck locker came into the wheelhouse. "I've got the rope ladder. We can hang that over the bow to help the men aboard. What'll we do with them then?"

"Take 'em out to the one of the bigger ships. Then go back for more." replied Jenks.

Roger kept _Maisie_ heading for the nearest line of men while trying to dodge the increasing amount of debris that was drifting about and avoiding other boats manoeuvring away from the beach.

"Here, I'll take the wheel now," said Jenks, "You give Vic a hand getting the men aboard. Tell him I'm aiming to get them over the starboard side, and remind him not to take too many. I don't want to go aground in the shallows."

Roger handed over to the Captain and headed forward to help Vic and pass on Captain Jenks' message.

Roger pointed to something in the water. "Is that man dead?"

"'Fraid it looks that way," responded Vic.

Roger watched with horrified fascination as a soldier in British uniform floated facedown only a few yards away.

"Shouldn't we do something?"

"Look lad, there are hundreds of men on that beach who need our help. We can do something for them but not for this poor guy. We need to help the living."

Roger nodded in agreement. He could see the sense in what the old bosun said, but it still seemed wrong to leave the unknown soldier bobbing astern of them without even saying a prayer. He remembered the morning last term when the headmaster had announced with solemn tones the death of one of the school's old boys, killed on active service with the RAF. The whole school had stood in silent tribute and later the name was added to the Roll of Honour in the chapel. It had all seemed so much cleaner and noble than being left to drift at the mercy of the wind and waves in the oily water of the English Channel.

He looked away as the body disappeared astern and back towards the beach. In the short time his attention had been distracted by the dead man they had got much closer to the shore.

The engine note changed as Jenks throttled back and cautiously nosed _Maisie_ into shallow water while avoiding another launch that was just backing out with her deck packed with men.

As Captain Jenks manoeuvred the boat up to the line of waiting troops Roger and Vic rigged the rope ladder so it hung over the starboard bow. The men had waded out into the deeper water until it was up to their chests and the occasional wave even splashed across their faces. Roger realised how fortunate it was that the sea was so calm, any rougher and the men would not be able to get so far out from the beach and the boats would not get in without grounding.

One by one Roger and Vic helped the soldiers up the rope ladder and on to the deck. Vic directed the first men to the cabin. "Sorry we can't offer you first class accommodation," he joked.

The soldier raised a wry smile at the feeble joke and went below as instructed. A sergeant was the third man taken on board and he took charge of the troops, his gruff voice chivvying the men along. "Come on boys, lovely day for a cruise round the bay. Get a move on there... don't dawdle!"

It was not long before Vic had to call "That's the lot! We're full up!", and started hauling up the rope ladder.

The men still waiting pleaded to be brought on board, but the old bosun was adamant. He gestured to Jenks to back away from the beach and shouted to the waiting soldiers, "We can't take any more. We'll take these out to one of the bigger ships and come back for more."

As Jenks put the engines astern and _Maisie_ started to pull away from the beach an aircraft roared overhead, its chattering guns sent a hail of bullets to whip the sea into white foam. Several of the waiting soldiers fell forward, one staggered to his feet again with blood pouring from a wound to his head. Others did not rise again and a red stain spread in the water

Roger started to call to Jenks to go back for the injured man, but stopped when he saw Vic's expression. The old bosun's face was contorted with pain and his left arm hung uselessly at his side. Blood ran in a continuous stream from the mangled mess that had been his elbow and fore arm.

"Help me please lad," he gasped, as he sank to the deck

Franticly Roger tried to think what Susan would do. She had always administered first aid on minor cuts and burns but he was at a loss of what to do for the old seaman. Iodine and a sticking plaster would be no use here. As he stood there wracking his brains the sergeant who had directed the soldiers pushed past and knelt beside Vic. "Tourniquet!" he barked.

"What?" asked Roger, still shocked by what he had witnessed and the realisation that he had been only feet away when Vic was hit but was unscathed himself.

"He needs a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. Have you something I can use?"

"I've got a handkerchief. It's pretty clean."

"Give it here then!"

Expertly the sergeant wrapped the handkerchief around Vic's upper arm and started twisting to tighten it and slow the blood flow.

"There that'll do for now. But he must be seen by a medic as soon as possible."

"How is he?" The shout came from the wheelhouse. While they dealt with Vic's injury Roger had forgotten about Captain Jenks and where he was taking the launch.

"He'll live." called back the sergeant, "But as I've just told your boy here he needs proper medical attention."

Jenks pointed to a minesweeper steaming slowly towards the shore. "Looks like that one's just arrived. Maybe she'll have a doctor onboard." He spun the wheel to put _Maisie_ on a converging course.

The 'sweeper was only a mile or so away but to Roger the time it took to reach her was interminable. The sergeant had left to check on his own men and his place was taken by a young soldier, who squatted down on the deck beside Roger and Vic. He looked exhausted, his eyes sunken in their sockets. "Have you come from England just to rescue us?" he asked.

"We just came over to help out. The Navy were taking a lot of the boats and we sort of decided to come along too."

The soldier shook his head in amazement, "I thought we were all goners. We just kept retreating. I didn't see a single German soldier, just their planes. Where ever we went they found us and bombed us to bits. I was driving a fuel tanker and every time I thought they would get me. One hit on that tanker would have been enough to blow us to kingdom come. Finally we were told to disable our trucks so the Germans couldn't use them and wait on the beach to be picked up. We were queued there waiting since first light. The line seemed to move so slowly. Then you came along…" The soldier ended with a sob.

Embarrassed Roger looked away and checked on Vic.

The old man gripped Roger's arm with his good hand. "You're a good lad," he whispered, "Get me back to Blighty and I'll be right as rain."

As _Maisie_ approached the minesweeper Roger could see other small craft were already alongside. Jenks held back for a few minutes until another boat had moved away and then slid in to take her place near the stern. A scrambling net hung down for the soldiers to climb up to the deck.

Again the sergeant alternatively harangued and cajoled the exhausted soldiers as they climbed the net to the safety of the naval ship. As he did so Roger called up to a sailor on the 'sweeper's deck, "Can you take this man? He's got a badly injured arm and can't climb up. I think he's lost a lot blood and needs to see a doctor."

"Hang on mate!" came the reply. "I'll chuck a line down to you."

Almost immediately a line was dropped down. Roger tied a bowline tightly under Vic's armpits. The old sailor grunted as Roger accidentally knocked against the injured arm. "Steady lad, don't make it worse than it is."

"Sorry Vic, there'll soon be a doctor to look at you."

Two sailors from the minesweeper climbed down to help Vic up onto the deck, as others above heaved in on the line. Before Jenks turned _Maisie_ away from the ship's side Vic gave a wave with his good arm and called down, "You're acting bosun now lad."

Roger waved back and shouted above the noise of the engine as Jenks backed away from the ship's side, "Goodbye. Good luck. Hope they fix your arm."

Vic waved again and disappeared from view supported on each side by a sailor. Roger stood watching astern as _Maisie_ headed back towards the beaches.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" he asked Jenks.

"He'll be fine. The navy chaps'll look after him. Now get ready to pick up some more and have the rope ladder ready."

"Aye aye, sir!"

They returned to the beach and embarked another load of soldiers that were waiting patiently for their turn.

"We'll go back to that 'sweeper." called Jenks, "We might be able to find out how Vic is getting on. Can you see where she is now?"

Roger scanned the area trying to pick her out from the confusion of shipping in. At last he spotted her, partially hidden behind a departing ferry.

"There she is!" he called, pointing the direction to Jenks.

As the boat chugged along Roger joined Jenks in the wheelhouse, who gave his approval to Roger's work.

"You've not done badly there. Not for a stowaway anyway. Look at the time, we should have time pick up one more load from the beach and take them back home with us. We should just make it before it gets too dark."

Roger nodded in agreement. The thought of returning to the little harbour was very appealing. This had been enough of an adventure for now. His stomach reminded him that he had only eaten one small currant bun since breakfast and he promised himself that he would have the other after these soldiers were transferred to a bigger ship. The apple would be his treat on the way back.

As if reading his mind Jenks continued, "When we've dropped off these lads pop down below and look in my kitbag. There's a couple of bottles of beer in there, and a meat pie from my missus. Should keep us going for a while."

This time Jenks was able to take _Maisie_ straight alongside the minesweeper. As the soldiers made their weary way up the scrambling nets Jenks called out to the sailors on the deck, "How's my mate Vic doing? We brought him out with an injured arm."

"Is that the old boy with a beard? Looks like the ancient mariner?"

"Bloody cheek!" muttered Jenks, "we're the same age, roughly." Then louder, replying to the sailor, "Yes, that'll be him."

There was a pause while the sailor called to someone else. A Sub-lieutenant appeared at the rail, "I think he's with our doc at the moment. We'll take him back to Dover. He'll be well looked after."

"Thank you."

As the last soldiers climbed wearily over the 'sweeper's rail Jenks waved a brief farewell to the watching sailors and backed _Maisie_ away.

"Last trip. There should be time for that beer now. Nip below and get them up."

Eagerly Roger went down to the small cabin to look for Jenks' kitbag. The place was a mess with odd pieces of discarded military kit, and the deck was wet from the seawater that had dripped from their uniforms. He found the kitbag under the starboard bench and rummaged inside. He took out the bottles and the pie and put them on the table, while he went to the locker where he left his knapsack. The bun was still there, it was a bit squashed but he was ready to eat anything.

Gathering it all together he started to climb the steps back up to the wheelhouse when, above the noise of the boat's engine, he heard the scream of approaching aircraft and the stutter of machine guns, and was just in time to see a German plane flash past closely pursued by an RAF fighter. Seconds later the German plunged into the sea, leaving nothing but a spreading patch of oily foam to mark its passing.

There was no time to celebrate the small victory. Jenks pointed skyward, "Watch out! Here come some more!"

Roger followed where Jenks' finger was pointing and saw a group of planes high above. As he watched they tilted over and dived towards the ships below. Rapidly the planes got bigger until Roger felt they were coming straight for him. Unwittingly he ducked as he saw bombs detach from the aircraft and hurtle towards them.


	3. Chapter 3

A series of great splashes marked where the bombs fell and _Maisie_ surged forward on the waves created by the explosions. For a moment the minesweeper they had recently left was completely hidden by a curtain of water. As the columns collapsed back into the sea the ship reappeared, apparently unscathed, Roger let out the breath he had not realised he had been holding, and willed that the she, her crew and passengers had survived unharmed.

As suddenly as they had arrived the planes were gone, flying low over the coast as they disappeared eastwards. The minesweeper continued steaming slowly on a course parallel to the coast.

"We'd best open those bottles then Mr Roger," said Jenks, as relative quiet descended over the sea. He produced a bottle opener from his pocket and passed it to Roger. "You do the honours. I think you've earned a wet."

Roger pried the caps off the bottles and passed one to Jenks, who raised it in salute and said, "Cheers, here's to us, and to getting back in one piece."

"Cheers," replied Roger and took a swig.

Perhaps it was because Jenks attention was distracted momentarily by the beer, perhaps the wreckage was fully submerged and _Maisie_ would have hit it anyway. Whatever the reason as Roger took a second drink from the bottle there was thump from forward followed by a drawn out scraping sound from below as something dragged along the hull.

Roger looked down wide-eyed as if he expected to see through the bottom of the boat to whatever they had hit. Jenks throttled back the engines. "Check below. You can access the bilges from under the cabin sole. Then check the engine room bilge," he ordered.

"Aye aye, sir!" replied Roger as he descended the steps to the cabin. Fumbling about he managed to lift a portion of the cabin floor and looked down. Water sloshed around below. He watched for a while and saw the level rise slightly. Replacing the boards he reported back to Jenks. "There's water coming in under the cabin floor, but it's not very fast."

"Thought so, she's feeling slightly different to steer. Now check the engine room and start the bilge pump."

"Sorry, where's the pump?"

"Never mind, I'll do it. You take the helm. Keep us heading towards the beach at this speed. I'll get the pump running to try to hold the flooding."

Roger took the wheel from Jenks and kept _Maisie_ on her course towards the beach. Although Jenks was only a few feet away in the engine compartment Roger felt very alone. He could hear aircraft again and wondered what would happen if he did not return. The message he left for his aunt said he was going to Dover. What if she checked and found he wasn't there?

Jenks reappeared from the engine room hatch and looked over the side. He gave Roger and thumbs up signal and came back into the wheel house. "That pump's running fine," he said, "the engine bilge looks OK. You know what? I reckon we will be able to get back home. Let's finish those beers to celebrate, then pick up some more soldiers to take back with us."

For the third time Jenks took _Maisie_ up to one of the lines of soldiers extending out into the sea. Again Roger helped soaked and exhausted men up the rope ladder. Again, as Jenks backed the boat away from the beach, Roger had to explain to those still waiting that the boat was full and could not take any more.

As Jenks pointed the bows back towards England Roger felt a great wave of tiredness sweep over him. The last few hours while they were off the beaches been a series of new experiences. He had seen his first dead body, then watched as men were cut down only yards away from where he stood. For a short time before Jenks got the pump running he was afraid he too might have to wait on the beaches for a boat to come and take him back to England and safety. Despite this he knew he was lucky compared these soldiers who had retreated through Belgium and France not knowing who or what would be waiting for them.

With great effort Roger rolled up the rope ladder and, stepping carefully over the out-stretched legs of the soldiers, carried it to the locker.

"Where are we going now?" asked a soldier as Roger bundled the ladder away.

"Back home. Well to Dover at least. I don't know when we'll actually get home." replied Roger.

"Home, I've being dreaming of getting back home over the last few weeks. Quite a few times I wondered if I'd ever get back."

"Was it bad over there?"

"Not to start with. We just sat near the border and built our defensive position. That's part of our job see. I'm a sapper, in the Engineers, build things up and knock things down so the battle goes the way the generals want it to. Problem was the Germans didn't do what was expected and didn't attack where we had prepared defences. Can't blame them really. We started falling back to try to stop the German advance, but they were too fast for us. If we'd had more time we could have done more to stop them, blowing up bridges, and things like that."

"Is that what the Engineers do, blow things up?"

"Well, demolition's part of our job, but we do much more."

"Come here a moment lad!" the shout from Jenks interrupted the soldier's story.

Roger joined the captain in the wheel house.

"Looks like that boat ahead of us is in trouble. Be ready to give them a hand if they need it."

A mile or so in front of them was another small boat, her hull shining pink and orange in the reflected light of the low, westering sun. Someone was standing on the cabin roof and waving.

"Aye, aye" replied Roger, and watched as they closed the other boat. "I think it's _Sydia_! You know, Mr Matthews' boat that the Navy took."

Skilfully Jenks brought _Maisie_ alongside the other boat until only a few feet separated the two vessels. _Sydia_ too was well-loaded with soldiers but it was obvious her engine was not running. The paintwork and varnish were scarred with bullet holes. The sailor he heard referred to as Bungs was waiting for them to get close.

"Hello again! Can you give us a hand? The engine stopped and it won't restart."

"Is it the battery switch again?" called Roger.

"Bloody cheek! I 'eard that!" the young stoker's head poked out from the engine room hatch. "We were attacked and it damaged the fuel line. If I 'ad the tools I could patch it up."

"We could give you a tow," offered Roger.

"That'll be great. Thank you."

"Captain Jenks, have we got a towrope?" asked Roger.

"Of course, there's a six inch manila in the deck locker. There are a couple of heaving lines there as well."

Two soldiers had to move aside to let Roger get to the locker. He easily found the heavy rope to use as a towrope. Two heaving lines, neatly coiled, hung from a hook. With the help from the soldiers he dragged the rope out on to the aft deck.

Jenks gave him advice while keeping _Maisie's_ stern level with _Sydia's_ bow. "Take a single turn about the towing bollard so it can run out slowly and under control. Now take a heaving line. Tie the end to something so you don't lose it if your throw misses. Split the coil in two and throw them together, underarm mind."

Roger had seen his brother John demonstrate throwing a line before and with Jenks' instructions the technique came back to him. From the other boat Bungs watched the preparations and made ready to catch the line. Taking careful aim Roger threw the heaving line across the gap between the two boats. To his slight surprise it was dead on target. The line fell across the deck only a yard away from where the seaman stood.

"Now tie the heaving line to the towrope and I'll pull it in."

Roger fumbled for a while trying to recall the correct knot to use. He remembered being told a sheet bend was the thing when joining ropes of different thicknesses, but how should it be tied? The completed knot did not look like any of the neat diagrams he had seen in John's seamanship book, but it held when he gave it a tug.

He gave a wave to show he was finished and watched as the towrope was pulled across to _Sydia_. The sailor untied the heaving line and passed the heavier rope through the bow fairlead and then took turns around the stout post on the foredeck before finally securing it to the anchor windlass. "That should hold now," he shouted.

Jenks, who had been watching from the wheelhouse window, gave a wave of acknowledgement and warned Roger, "I'm going to come ahead slowly. Let the line run out slowly and under control. I'll stop when the tow is long enough, then you secure it at that."

Gently they moved ahead and Roger found it was easy to control the rope as the tow tightened. After a few minutes of cautiously letting the line pay out Jenks called again, "That looks good. Secure at that."

With the help of a soldier the tow was made fast. "Get everyone clear of the aft deck," called Jenks, "If that line parts it'll whip back and could cause someone a nasty injury!"

By crowding more men into the cabin they managed to clear the deck and _Maisie_ slowly forged ahead with _Sydia_ following obediently astern.

While they had been busy with _Sydia_ Roger had not noticed how low the sun had sunk. Looking up he saw it was already touching the western horizon. Silhouetted against the sky were other craft heading back towards England and safety.

"Are you going to stand there gawping all day?" asked Jenks. "I could do with a break."

"Sorry," said Roger. He took the wheel from Jenks and asked "What's the course?"

"With all the dodging around we've done I must admit I'm not sure. Everyone else should be heading the same way, so just follow them."

Jenks lent on the open doorway of the wheel house and pulled out a pipe and tobacco from the depths of his jacket pockets. As he tamped the tobacco into the bowl of his pipe he checked astern that _Sydia_ was still towing safely behind. "Not a bad day's work." he observed.

Roger just nodded in agreement.

Jenks continued, "I don't know what's going to happen now, but I think we've made a small difference. Jerry won't want to stop now. He'll push on and we'll need every fighting man we can muster to stop Hitler taking over England. You'll be called on to your bit soon I reckon. Any ideas what you want to do?"

"I've not given a lot of thought. I thought it would be fun to join the Air force and learn to fly, but the soldier I was talking to is an engineer. He said they build things and blow up things, which sounds interesting."

"You're not looking at going in the Navy then?"

"No, my father and brother are both in the Navy. They both enjoy it but I want to do something different."

Jenks nodded and drew on his pipe.

For a while there were little to be heard onboard, save the rhythmic throb of the engines and the sound of the sea washing past. Most of the soldiers had fallen asleep where they sat or lay, the fears of the last few days forgotten, as _Maisie_ carried them back to Dover and safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note
> 
> For some time I have wanted to write something that tells a little of the horrors and bravery that lay behind "The Miracle of Dunkirk". Despite the thousands of British and foreign troops brought home, many were killed on the beaches and in the ships and boats that came to rescue them. This is my small tribute to those took part in that heroic evacuation.


End file.
